The ADVANTAGE of DISADVANTAGE

by Leigh Lundin

Several weeks ago, Melodie Johnson Howe recently wrote about people who dissed mysteries and thrillers. While I have heard of various genres and even fiction itself being dismissed, I realized I’ve never actually heard anyone criticize mysteries and “thrill” fiction to my face. Perhaps it’s the company I keep.

I was lucky: My parents and my aunts were not only voracious readers, they passed the gene on. Growing up, we were blest with great advantages:

• No television.
• No video games.
• No cell phones.

Granted, I came from a family that valued eccentricity as “normal” and normal as eccentric. It’s also true that my family struggled financially when I was young. But largely, my parents valued books more than television.

Steeped in history, we were the 6^th generation to be raised on the last of the family farms, a land grant deeded to distant ancestors by Andrew Jackson. The house, built of yellow poplar during the civil war, had ghosts and stories of its own. Ancient barns of hand-hewn foot-thick beams and a multiplicity of sheds huddled together like a medieval village. Next to the foundations of the original log cabin, garlic that could peel taste buds off the tongue still grew in the pioneer garden. Kick the rich Indiana soil, and there was a chance you could turn up an arrowhead, an Indian birdstone, or a brachiopod fossil.

In the orchard, a miniature Stonehenge circle of boulders yanked from the fields became a fort for my brothers, as it once provided a fairy ring for doll teas by my mother, and her mother, and her mother, and her mother. Under the fruit trees and overlooking the fields and woods, that stone circle became a favorite place for reading and for daydreaming stories.

Instead of television, my mother gave us stories and poems by Twain, Longfellow and Thoreau. She read to us James Whitcomb Riley’s poems and Charles Majors who told local legends of the Fire Bear. My father read adventure classics to us, James Oliver Curwood’s Kazan the Wolf Dog and Baree, son of Kazan (now available as eBooks), stories by Jack London, A. Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and H. Rider Haggard.

My father’s voice painted scenes of Africa or the Arctic, tender moments of love, and unforgettable struggles between life and death. We cheered when that “mother of evil” witch, Gagool, finally received her comeuppance and “Gagool crunchies” remains a catch-phrase with my brothers today.

In the antique house, it was not unusual for closet doors to open by themselves, or, it was said, with the assistance of a family ghost affectionately named Wilbur. Wilbur had a wonderful habit of creaking open a door just as storybook characters happened to enter mysterious attics, explore hidden caves, or creep unaware of giant snakes descending from the jungle trees.

To get an idea of the experience, listen to Jim Dale (on CD or audio tape) read Harry Potter. As some adults and children have found, you might enjoy the mental voyage more than the film itself.

Sha na na

Remember Sha-na-na, Happy Days, or Grease? If you were a rock groupie, the name Robert Leonard might mean something to you, although the name Dr. Robert Leonard might not.

Dr. Leonard, a director and chair at Hofstra University, is a forensic linguist. One of his specialities is dissecting legal documents to separate their actual meaning from their intent.

Of particular interest to me is his ability to delve into documents and determine who wrote them, not from their handwriting, but from their verbal patterns. I’m aware of and even understand computer programs that have achieved moderate success in this field, but Dr. Leonard has taken it to an entirely new level. You can learn more on his web site.